Dark Room
by Domestic Frizz
Summary: Graves meets Pavi. Drunken angst occurs. Graves helps. Is it a start to a beautiful or hideous relationship? Slash. Flames are taken and used as fuel for my flamethrower. Rawr. R& R please?


Graverobber was led out by one of the GeneCo nurses and they walked it seemed forever to get to the housings of the Masters. He was left by a large door which looked like it could open into the entire building, he supposed it was a wing. Graverobber opened the door with a little effort and stepped inside. It was dark and the nurse had closed the door. Squinting and trying to adjust to the dim light, Graverobber fumbled his fur lined jacket for a lighter. The room seemed to big for a light switch to be found. The light sparked and the room seemed to be full of dark rich furnishings. Was someone supposed to be there? Amber said someting about 'Pavi', now which one was that? The angry one or the crazy one? Suddenly, and without warning, a half-empty wine bottle came flying from the shadows of the darkened bedroom. It flew past the Graverobber's head, its contents pouring from the uncorked mouth before finally meeting its end against a wall. "I-a told you, Amber, no vis-ee-tors! NO-A GENTERNS, NO SURGEONS, NO ONE, YOU-A HEAR?" A voice shrieked, the words slurred somewhat, most likely thanks to the wine bottle, which was now partially embedded in the wall. Quiet sobbing could be heard, occasionally interupted by the soft slurping of lips against a glass. Paviche Largo, the youngest of the three illustrious heirs, now owners, of GeneCo, lie draped over a gold-trimmed chaise lounge, his face buried in the crook of his elbow. "Pavi is a monster now! You-a leave him!" He limply waved an arm at the intruder, too intoxicated by stupidly expensive win and his own self-pity to even look to see who it was.

Graverobber flinched at the object thrown past his head, his body turning in the direction of the groggy voice. His nerves were on edge and he was thinking about shouting at whomever had just stupidly thrown a bottle out of no where. "I'm not Amber," his voice came out dry and tired. He stepped towards the man slowly putting his lighter back into the pocket. "I am Graverobber, Pavi Largo." He made his way slowly and gently to Pavi so not to startle him. Graverobber knew how to charm drunk ladies, how was this bloke different. Standing now an arms reach away Graverobber asked: "Are you planning on thowing anymore objects that may potentially harm me?" he inquired sarcasticlly. Pavi only grunted in response. Sluggishly, he pulled himself into a seated position, though he kept his back turned to the dealer and his shoulders hunched, giving him the eerie appearance of an emaciated crow gone to roost. He downed the rest of his glass, then tossed it in the same corner as the bottle, where it met a similar fate. "You-a the man who sell my sister Z? I hear she pay you with sex. Ha! You are being cheated, my friend. My-a brother get that for free!" The youngest Largo cackled. His feet shifted, and the crunching sound of broken glass jumped from beneath his boot. Each and every specimen of his looking-glass collection had been broken to smithereens, their glittering remains dusting the floor of his bedroom. Even he couldn't stand the sight of himself. "Why do you come? I do not use-a the zydrate. It does not help-a me." (done xD)

Graverobber had adjusted to the light now clearly seeing shattered glass spread about everywhere and the man that was in pain, although he was the most spoiled, selfish, and lucky man left alive. "I. . . as predicted am in need of a kidney transplant," he snorted, ironic he would need it, after all the exposure he had gone through. "So I am here..." he stepped over a smashed mirrior and sat on the space Pavi had just left. Feeling around for anymore booze. "I am here to be your companion, I suppose."

Pavi, suddenly enraged, leapt to his feet. His delicate, spindly fingers balled into fists, so tight that his knuckles turned a stark white. He began to rant and rave, kicking over whatever poor thing got in his way, including a very frightened cat. "I tell-a her that I do not want company! So what does she do?! She getta me a baby sitter!" The toe of his boot went sailing through the wall of a doll-house, crushing the porcelain family within. His child-like outburst continued for a few moments as he hysterically began to destroy a good third of his bedroom. Suddenly he fell to the floor in a heap, sobbing like a cholicy infant, complete with a fist pounding against the floor. A few incoherent shouts floated through the floorboards, no doubt death threats coming from Luigi.

Graverobber looked on in a shallow disbelief of insanity. Standing again, with a crunch, he stepped over the doll house and leant against a wall watching Pavi have his fit, and trying to come up with a response that he could take. After a few minutes he chimed in "I'm not here to watch over you," he spoke calmly. "I'm here to cheer yo up!" He stepped around some obsticles and crouchec next to Pavi. "Don't you want to get cleaned up? Have some food?" He hesitently rested a hand on the mad mans shoulder.

Pavi shook his head, overly-gelled locks of black hair falling in his face. His face was partially exposed now, a piece of his new mask revealed. A crazy map of red and blue veins encompassed one eye, and one cheek was an ugly purple hue. It was obvious that his body was rejecting the face, trying to force it out. "No," he snarled, his body now limp and exhausted from his outburst. "Pavi wants to /die/. He just wants to be left alone until his body dries up and blows away in the wind, justa like his Mamma." Though he did not welcome the other man's hand on his shoulder, he made no move to remove it. A small puddle of blood began to form under one arm where a piece of glass had cut him, marring the pristine white carpet. Graverobber gently massaged the shoulder blade for a moment. He brushed glass shards away with his boots and sat. "Would'nt she want to see you thrive before your time came?" Graverobber asked, seeing if this routine would work. "C'mon." He grabbed the Pavi hoisting him to sit up, unknowing of the wound.

Pavi nodded begrudgedly, pulling himself back up. He leaned against Graverobber, his body pliant and yielding as a rag doll's. The hysterical youth clung to Graverobber's shoulder as if it were a life line. A spasm richocheted through the nerves in his face, creating a revolting yet somehow charmingly alien effect. The twitches became fewer and further between as his breathing slowed from a whiny gasp to a more normal pace.

"There now..." Graverobber had seen it all, Pavi was little different than the whores who needed Zydrate. Everyone realized on everyone now. His arms reluctantly held the grown man. "Would you like some water?" he asked trying stand up with Pavi, and attempting to move him back to the lounge. He set the man down and grabbed some piece of clothing from the ground lightly dabbing the mans face.

Pavi nodded, wiping his face with the discarded piece of clothing. He rummaged through his pockets, eventually producing a slightly crushed box of cigarettes. He didn't think of them as an indulgence or addiction. After all, what's the use of watching after your lungs if you can just get a new pair when the old ones spoil? Clenching one between his teeth, he fumbled for a match. Aha! After a few moments of searching he found a small cardboard box, its cover embossed with the GeneCo logo. He rattled it. Empty. Clenching his teeth and cursing under his breath, he glared at Graverobber. "Get me a light, too."

Graverobber retrieved his light and sparked it lighting Pavis fag and slipping it into his hand. "Keep it," the blond looked to a light that came from the small window, he no longer needed it. Minutes passed and the light of the aircraft faded to the distance. Surely GeneCo. was not so dull as what he had seen. He stood and proceeded to pick up the bigger shards of glass and debris, this is what he was now right? A Manservant?

Pavi reclined on the chaise, his legs crossed neatly at the ankle. His pencilled-on eyebrows were arched in amusement. It surprised him how naturally subservient Graverobber seemed. He'd expected more resistance out of the zydrate dealer. The cherry of his cigarette glowed in the dim lighting as he took a drag. "Why did you agree to the deal? Surely you have the money for a transplant. Don't you?" Pavi steals all of the hearts! says:

Graverobber stiffened at the thought Pavis word envoked within his mind. "Surely you know the people are turning to cremation to stop the organ stealing." He turned and watched the man through the dim but now warm light. "Thus no graves to rob, no zydrate. Amber wants to get the rest of the stock..." He shrugged. "The new Repo man sounds even cewkier than the last one." Of course he would not admit to being scared or manipulated by Amber. "And I REALLY need those kidneys." He dropped all the trash he had collected by the door he had entered, then shifted back to Pavi licking his lips in hope for a puff of the cigarrette.

"He may be a little crazier than Nathan, but he's not nearly as sloppy. At least this one can bring back a small intestine all in one piece." Pavi tapped ash from the end of his cigarette, letting it fall where it may. He grinned at the sight of Graverobber's desperation. It made him feel better, if only for a moment. He fished into his breast pocket, producing another cigarette. "Do you want one?" A nasty tone crept into his voice. "Beg for it and I'll give it to you." Perhaps this would draw a little fiestiness out of the dealer.

Graverobber cocked an eyebrow at that. "You want me to beg for a cigarette?" he looked at Pavi in an amused state. Him? Beg!? He snatched the cigarette and laughed, testing the waters with this guy. Before Paci could react Graverobber went into a little routine of making the fag disappear by and reappear magically.

Pavi smirked. It was one of the few facial expressions he could still make, and he used it often. "Well, I did, but whatever. If I know my slut of a sister, she'll have made your contract binding. The second the ink dried you became property of GeneCo. It's completely understandable if you don't want to follow it. After all, you couldn't possibly need a transplant THAT badly." He reached the end of his cigarette, flicking the butt into an empty wine glass. "Besides," he held up the lighter, "you're going to need a light for that."

Graverobber lent in to set his smoke, catching Pavi by the wrist so he would not take it away. After taking a few puffs Graverobber leant back and look at Pavi really for the firs time. His face was completely torn apart, more than Ambers had been. And with all the smashed looking-glasses... What had happened? Does it hurt?" He asked, circling his on face with the cigarette clenched between two fingers.

Pavi stayed silent, taking a moment to light another cigarette. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, on the edge of saying something but immediately taking it back. Finally, he spoke. "Not as much as you think. The surgeons said most of the nerves will die if Pavi gets a new face, so he is stuck with this , he would rather be dead and beautiful than this...this monstrosity!" He threw up his hands, gesticulating towards his mutilated visage.

The Graverobber flicked back some hair and put the butt out on his cigarette. "What about a mask?" He blew out the last black smoke from his lungs. "Or makeup?" He looked over the lounge into a mirrior, his makeup always looked good. "I could teach you great stuff." He knew Pavi had the money for the best cosmetics in the world.

Pavi looked at the Graverobber the same way one might look at a drunken beggar. He pointed to the inflamed veins and mottled patches of flesh that were stretched over his skull. "Youa t'ink make-up can cover this? You t'ink Pavi hasn't tried?" The spoiled man-child shook his head with a scowl. "As for masks...it's just not the same." (cont)

Pavi looked down at himself. What had he become? Even his dress was beginning to falter. The provacatively tight clothing that he'd been so fond of now seemed pointless, for who could he seduce anymore? Even buttons, and sometimes underwear, seemed like too much of a bother for his shut-in lifestyle.

Graverobber twisted his lips in thought. "I'm sure we could do something with it." He sat up straight beckoning Pavi to come closer. "C'mere, let me look closer." He put out a hand in a kind, gentle gesture, waiting for the man to turn into it.

: Pavi looked uneasy. Graverobber could get violent over a cigarette, and there was no imagining what he would do if Pavi didn't come to him. Pavi wasn't nearly as strong and knew full well that if the graverobber were to attack him in such a vulnerable position he was done for. But what did he have to lose? With a sigh he scooted to the end of the chaise, presenting himself to be scrutinized.

Graverobber took the multilated face and squinted looking at the damage. The veins were indeed a problem, the scars would heal over, maybe not diappear, but yeah, he could work with it. "Pavi my friend, we can make a face for you." His voice was now confident and loud. "Instead of hiding the veins we could make use of them. Yes!" Ideas were forming in his mind. Style could always be dictated by one who had mastered it.

Pavi cringed at the sudden loudness of Graverobber's voice. The wine from earlier was finally getting to him, and the dealer's booming voice made his eardrums tremble. He moved a hand to cover one ear, but yelped at the spark of pain that shot up his arm. Looking down, he remembered the cut on his arm. It appeared that the bleeding had stopped, but the wound was still tender. It didn't matter. He'd take care of it later. "You cannot be serious," he glanced at a large mirror shard on the floor. He'd always been quite the trend-setter, but making turgid veins look stylish? That look didn't even work for Amber.

"With my help. You can do anything." Graverobber stood and stretched. "But first you need to clean up. You can't have blood sputtered about your elegent clothes." He teased noticing the wound. "Show me! Around this marvolous place you have." He was good at this, the cheering up of weird-os.


End file.
